


Into the Past

by BritaniaVance



Series: Atonement [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Comic), Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords
Genre: Angst, F/M, Force-Visions, Into the Past, Novelization, Snippet, The Sith Lords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 17:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6338326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BritaniaVance/pseuds/BritaniaVance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Atton volunteers to head the expedition into the Temple of Freedon Nadd on Dxun and gets more than he bargains for, coming head-to-head with a dark energy he hasn't seen since his time as Jaq and bearing witness to a duel of fates that took place almost a decade earlier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Past

          Silence crept its way among them, despite the pounding of the rain and their heaving breaths.

The bodies of their enemies lay sprawled about, motionless, a warning of what was to come. Atton looked ahead, peering through the near-impenetrable mist at the hulking silhouette of the Temple of Freedon Nadd. Eyes scanning its foreboding frame, he wondered what else might face them, whether they be from the past or present. Or his own past, at least.

          Still in proper stance, Atton inched the button of his saber with his thumb, the blade descending and disappearing all together into its roughly-hewn hilt. Mandalore shook his head but said nothing, clearly in disapproval of the use of such an ancient weapon, especially one that had once beaten the Mandalorians into the ground. Eden may have been different than other Jedi, aside from her staunch insistence that she was _not_ a Jedi, and the leader of the Dxun clan knew that. But Mandalore still had a hard time accepting that the rest of her crew were so eager to call themselves such, _Jedi_. Atton merely glanced at the man before returning his gaze to the temple before them, reminiscing that not long ago he felt the same.

          “Alright, let’s get moving,” Atton jerked his head forward, indicating that they move on and attempt to ignore what bodies lay disturbingly about them, a sight of which they were all getting uncomfortably used-to, Atton more so than he might like to admit. Everything about this excursion was familiar, hearkening back to a past-self Atton had spent the last seven – _or was it eight? –_ years of his life forgetting. But he had volunteered to head the march into the Temple of Freedon Nadd. Mandalore would get them there, Mira would disable the mines, Bao would rig any equipment marking the perimeter to shoot hostiles on sight (in their favor), Visas would alert them to what dark energies milled about and Atton would recall long-forgotten rituals he was once schooled in to help break up the party gathering at the Temple as havoc was conveniently wrought over the Iziz Palace.

          Atton was still bothered by the fact that he and Eden had not accompanied one another since they landed on this Maker forsaken moon. What bothered him more was that Mical was with her instead. Eden, Brianna, Mical and that ridiculous HK model were to wear their best garb and storm the castle, whilst Atton dove head-first into the heart of darkness and led the Mandalorians into the one place they still feared on this moon they had otherwise conquered and called their own. Despite his discontents, what unnerved Atton most was that once Mandalore led them through the forest, _he_ would be the one to lead them onward. Despite Visas’ more recent stint as a Sith crony, Atton had more experience when it came to ancient rituals and eliminating anyone that might get in the way of the adepts attempting their séance, or whatever it was the acolytes and apprentices actually did at the behest of their masters.

          “I sense darkness beyond these doors,” Visas’ soft husk of a voice broke the all-too prominent silence. Atton felt as if her voice might have echoed if it weren’t for the rain. His skin writhed as she spoke aloud what he feared most about this expedition to begin with. It did nothing for his confidence, and he would rather not anyone notice.

          “As do I,” Bao-Dur agreed darkly.

          Despite their collective dark feelings, no one stopped following Atton. They continued forward without hesitation. Atton wondered for a moment what lay beyond the doors, as well as what lay just beyond the stretch of space that separated Dxun from Onderon, and what headway Eden had made in her political affairs there.

          The entrance to the temple emerged out of the growing mist, though it was still shrouded in shadow. Atton could sense life forms dwelling within it, with what little he knew of commanding the Force.  He sensed something else, too. Though he couldn’t quite place it, it felt familiar. _Too_ familiar.

_Well, here goes nothing._

          Atton held his hand up to the entrance as if to stop an invisible advancer. The doors slowly shifted and inched open before them as Atton summoned energy from within himself, channeling it outward through his fingers, the physical arbiters of his inward command, demanding that the large stone slabs allow their entrance. Once the doors were opened enough to let them pass, his hand resumed its ready position at his side, almost itching for a blaster that wasn’t there. Using the Force still drained him of a considerable amount of energy. Even things as mundane as opening doors (though in Atton’s defense, it was a monolithic set of stone doors which probably weighed several tons and must have been set in place by the Force itself), but he was at least mature enough to note: _Censor future Force usage. Can’t afford to lose your breath in here against your ex-comrades, eh Jaq?_

Atton grimaced at the bitter sarcasm even his inner monologue possessed, and pressed forward.

No one said a word as they entered, and only moments after breaching the threshold they came upon a crossroads. Tendrils of corridors spread out in several directions, all dissolving into shadows as ominous and massive as black holes, revealing nothing of what lay beyond, imbued with the mysterious power of drawing them forward regardless.

It really was no surprise that the Sith had an affinity for what was large and ominous, given the party’s previous experiences, not to mention their most recent excursion to Korriban. The walkway ahead of them was suspended over a bottomless chasm and the walls were alit with an amorphous, ghostly red glow that seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere at once. It was now clear that the Sith had far too much of a preoccupation with appearance than the Jedi. _Perhaps this was a tell-tale sign of a future delinquents in their midst_ , Atton thought, keeping himself calm with a steady flow of sarcastic thoughts. _Anyone with a flair for the dramatics is flagged for “further consideration”_.

“It’s all very cliché, isn’t it?” Mandalore grunted in an attempt to break the silence and the overall tension, but Atton had a feeling that no amount of comic relief could overshadow the suffocating feeling that pervaded every corner of the temple. It would only intensify as they progressed further into its depths.

As much as Atton wanted to chuckle at their shared train of thought, he knew Mandalore wasn’t joking, and was perhaps masking an innate fear so deeply set into his knowledge of this dark moon that he _had_ to poke fun at the décor for fear of dissolving into its very darkness himself.

The two men looked at one another, though it might have been fairer to say that Mandalore looked in Atton’s direction – it was hard to tell with the helmet. Mandalore nodded first, and Atton in return. Old habits would have it that Atton knew what Mandalore intended, and he did not argue. No words were exchanged as Mandalore took one route and Atton the other, their trailing party members choosing their own path as they came to the fork, having reached some unspoken understanding. It was the only way they could cover enough ground. Bao followed Mandalore while Visas, and Mira who had been surprisingly quiet, followed him onward as the other men vanished into the shadows.

“Come to chide at my handiwork?” Atton whispered back at Mira through the corner of his mouth as he advanced down his chosen path.

Mira didn’t laugh, nor did she say anything at all, indicating a sense of seriousness about both the chiding as well as the growing suffocating feeling of the place that she was not willing to joke about.

To Atton’s comfort, he sensed no life forms at the end of this route. Despite the lack of life however, there was an abundance of something… _else_. It pulsed and thrummed within his mind’s eye, but not being used to working the _Force_ this way, so used to referring to this feeling as his intuition, Atton was not sure what it was exactly. It felt… sharp, but hollow and heavy all at once. It mirrored the heaviness of this place, or perhaps carried it. _What in the hell have I gotten myself into?_

Atton, Mira and Visas soon came upon a small, though nearing ancient, control room. Aside from the old and inactive consoles lining the walls, it was empty save for a few bins and what might have been considered chairs near the entrance, but their formation was so crude that Atton wondered whether any comfort could come of them. Even though the room was void of life, Atton felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as what felt like a sheet of ice seemed to settle over his skin.

Atton knew this feeling. It had been the fulcrum of his training, under Revan. Whatever possessed this room was otherworldly, and though he had no definitive word for it, he knew what it was. Once upon a time, Jaq and his comrades were exposed to rooms thick with the stuff to prove their salt. Whatever they saw was unique to their inner fears, their most innate thoughts, and whatever else crowded their minds and memories. Overseers would document their reactions and determine whether their behavior deemed appropriate. As memory would have it, Atton could only conjure faint shadows of his own trials, recalling whispers, wails and old memories he had since repressed, memories so deeply buried that even his time at the Sith Academy seemed joyous in comparison.

“Stay back,” Atton warned, his skin erupting in goosebumps as he realized that they might have already gone too far, and that the visions would override their senses any moment now.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Mira’s voice almost whispered, but it sounded as if she were right at Atton’s ear. Atton had not heard her approach, nor was he aware that she was anywhere near him before he heard her voice. Whatever energy pervaded this room, it gave Atton the feeling that not only were his senses muted but he was suddenly filled with a dread he could neither explain nor comprehend. Breathing suddenly became far more of a physical endeavor than usual, as if the air were far thicker than only moments before and filled his lungs with a substance other than oxygen, filling them to capacity, drying his mouth and his eyes and causing his mind to throb against his skull… and then, before Atton could agree or retort, he was no longer in the same room as Mira or Visas, nor were they anywhere near him…

He felt as if he might pass out, and the world around him dissolved into darkness. Atton suddenly lurched, hunching over. His hands gripped his knees as he breathe, inhaling and exhaling with the purpose of steadying himself. He half expected Mira to laugh, to say _something,_ but the sound that met his ears did not match the place in which he knew he was. The heaviness of the ancient chamber dissolved and was replaced with the soft hum of a large ship, a star destroyer or something of the sort, a ship whose engines he had not heard since the war.

Atton blinked hard, but the world failed to fall into focus. He breathed in again, closing his eyes with purpose before opening them, once his head felt as if it were screwed on straight.

The chamber’s ancient monitoring equipment was gone. Mira and Visas were not to be found. All Atton saw were stars.

“ _What the_ -“

“What I don’t understand…” a voice echoed, interrupting his thoughts, reverberating off of every surface around him, though Atton had yet to determine where he even was, “Is why you will not see reason?!”

The room finally emerged from the cloudedness of Atton’s vision and revealed itself to be a large viewing deck of a Star Forge vessel, massive, monolithic and mystifying. Before him, in the center of the room, a young girl of roughly twenty, toned and dark-haired, paced as a tall young man watched her hungrily. There was something familiar about him. He was massive, towering over the young woman before him, his head shaved of what once must have once been dark hair, blue eyes darting, watching the girl almost forcefully.

 _This must be a vision,_ Atton thought, watching on, speechless and motionless on the viewing deck.

“Will you just _look_ at me!” the man begged a little too forcefully, stopping the girl in her tracks as he snatched her chin in his fingers, tilting her head up at him. The girl shook herself out of his grip and continued pacing, her hands itching for her twin sabers, sheathed at either side of her hips.

_Jedi._

The girl shook her head, her mouth opening and closing, thinking of things to say in response but immediately thinking against it before speaking, unsure of what to say or whether to say anything at all.

            Finally, she said something, under her breath. Anger flared in her eyes. Atton stepped closer to hear, but her voice was muffled, and the entire room jerked as if it were a corrupted holorecording. Atton shuddered, half-expecting the vision to come crashing down around him, and he instinctively brought a hand to his face, examining his fingers and the _realness_ of himself. He had experienced something much like this before, back when he was training on Korriban, and he imagined the Exile had experienced something similar in the shyrack cave only a few weeks prior. What Atton knew of dark energy was what it did to the mind, what it made you see, and what it made you feel. The Sith used it to test character, to make sure that recruits were loyal to the death for their cause. As far as Atton knew, this dark energy would feed off of your own energy, displaying warped bits of memory and replaying them in sequences so surreal and terrifying that it was hard to believe that it was and was not happening at the same time. But this… this was different. This was _not_ one of Atton’s memories. Despite his willingness to forget the past, Atton had filed away each and every one of his life’s past events, safely stored in his head – and this was definitely not one of them.

            The room came into focus again. Atton squinted, trying to get a better look at the Jedi that occupied the scene. Judging by the ship, this memory must have taken place during the Mandalorian Wars. When this had taken place to whom exactly, Atton was not sure. The image flickered again, for a moment, lights flashing, and Atton figured he must have missed some sort of fight because when the images around him finally stilled, the girl stood motionless but her chest was heaving, breathing heavily from exertion. Dark hair framed her face, hiding it from view, but Atton could see the perspiration lining her brow.

            She held twin blue sabers aloft, and though she stood still, he could feel her welling with energy, and the room pulsed with its threatening release.

The other figure from earlier was absent, but the young woman before him watched the shadows at the center of the room, waiting for him to strike again. Atton dared not move. Despite what little Atton could surmise from the girl’s profile, he could now tell that she was a much younger Eden. Her hair was cut short, a tangled mess that stopped chin-length, with a single braid, thin and almost undone, that hung at her back. She was just a Padawan.

            Atton’s fists clenched in anticipation, with apprehension as to what it was he was to witness next and why. His arms were stiff against his body, one hand perpetually grasping the hilt of the new saber at his hip, a statue frozen in absolute fear from the silence and the moment it would finally break.

            Then, a laugh pierced room, sending the hair on the back of Atton’s neck on edge. Eden remained unfazed.

            The sound died but failed to dissolve entirely, echoing off of the walls. Atton swung around, following the ricocheting laughter as it traveled the room, almost convinced that the space was filled with invisible onlookers. It was the first time he took notice of where this was all happening. He knew he was on a ship, but now that he looked around he could see where the ship was stationed. Behind him was Eden pacing before an unseen opponent, but now that Atton stood at the vast windows of the viewing deck, before him was a vast glimpse into the heart of the galaxy and a looming monolith orbiting in the distance, the likes of which Atton had never seen. Entranced, his eyes remained fixed on the gigantic station before him, hanging in space some several thousand kilometers away. It hung as a metallic sun in the void, ancient, composed of slender towers accordioned together, fixed to a central orb. Ships loomed in the distance of similar design and Atton’s skin crawled as the realization settled: _this was the Star Forge_. Not only had he heard of the birthplace of Revan’s massive fleet but he had piloted a ship or two during his stint under her Sith faction. None of the Republic pilots had ever seen the marvel itself, save for Revan and Malak, until the Mandalorian Wars ebbed into the Jedi Civil War. Now Atton knew to count the Exile among those few.

            Another laugh broke Atton out of his reverie, just as he wondered whether the Star Forge still hung isolated, churning out ships for the rest of eternity, somewhere at the heart of the galaxy. This time, when he spun around to meet the sound, his gaze was met with a glinting eye from the shadows, bright, pale and menacing. The man from before.

            “Revan says you’re as good as dead,” a familiar voice said, the laugh dying from the stranger’s throat as he spoke. The sound resonated with something deep within Atton’s memory, an echo he had made a point of forgetting along with Jaq and anything else he could make disappear. Atton knew he had never seen this particular scene unfold before, but despite all the memories he stored away, he _knew_ that voice.

            The silence that followed was nulled by the humming energy only a lightsaber could emit. The darkness vanished as a single red light grew from the blackness and swallowed it whole. A face, pale and grinning, emerged from the shadows.

            “So how does it feel? Being dead?”

            The figure emerged, towering over Eden as he neared her. The man’s bald head gleamed in the lights overhead as he stepped into the center to meet Eden’s twin blades, and now Atton could tell that blue runes adorned his skull.  
            _Darth Malak._

            Atton knew he was in a memory but his muscles still tensed. His fingers furled and unfurled in an attempt to relieve the tension mounting in his bones, but the sight of a younger Eden and the towering figure of a famed Sith warrior filled him with an energy he could not contain.

  
            _This has already happened,_ Atton reminded himself, his eyes fixed on the pair as they circled each other at the center of the room. _Whatever the outcome, Eden will be fine. She’ll live._

            Young Eden was now inching her way around Malak, her body now fully facing Atton, and his skin began to crawl again. Her tangled hair gave her the look of a teenager unwillingly awoken, but the ferocity in her eyes made her seem more menacing than Malak. Despite her near-childlike appearance with her messy hair, her freckles, and her Padawan braid, there was a tenacity to her features that aged Eden beyond the years even Atton knew nearly a decade later. Her eyes were sunken, wreathed in dark circles. The pallor of her skin was sickly but not weak, and her eyes flashed with a heat that made Atton shiver. _Who **is** this girl?_ It was as if the young woman before him were not Eden herself but someone who looked inexplicably like her that it could not _possibly_ be the same Eden he knew. She wasn’t.

            _Malachor_. _This must have been after Malachor._

            Malak struck first, teasing, hardly trying. He waved his saber about as if it were as weightless as a conductor’s baton. Eden matched his movements one-handed. One of her blades met his offense, as the other waited ready at her side. Her eyes never left Malak’s form, predicting what he might do next.

            “You don’t know what you’re missing, _Ede_ ,” Malak exhaled as he moved again, this time lunging at Eden’s side. She matched his offense and did not flinch. Her face betrayed no emotion, only controlled rage.

            _So they’re familiar with one another_ , Atton judged, finding himself circling along with them like a referee in a dirty underground dueling ring, his stomach flipping within his rib cage at the thought. _Just how familiar?_

Malak’s breathing suddenly became heavier, his nostrils flaring at Eden’s lack of reaction.

            “ _Answer me!_ ” he hissed through gritted teeth so tight Atton thought his Cheshire grin might crack with the pressure.

            Eden’s face was as smooth as stone, the light throwing her face into shadow as she side-stepped, her eye sockets hollow in the darkness as she hissed right back, “Why don’t you find out?”

            Malak raised his saber in rage, but as the blade reached its apex. he paused. Eden was no longer where she had been standing. As confusion took hold of the Sith Lord’s expression, Eden came crashing down on him from behind, blades blazing. Atton had seen Eden pull this before; she must have ducked into the shadow at the base of the pillar where Malak rested earlier, jumped, kicked off from the pillar and hurtled over an unaware Malak before landing soundlessly behind him. A wide smile crept across Atton’s face and he felt his skin go cold with recognition. _So that_ was _an old trick after all._

            But just as Eden landed, her sabers in motion, the image faded, jolting once more. Atton saw a glimpse of the chamber in Freedon Nadd’s temple in its place. He felt Mira grabbing him, shaking his shoulders as Visas stood over them, her hands at her temples, as if she were seeing something, too. There was a scream, and Atton could not tell if it belonged to the past or the present, but when the world around him came back into focus, Eden was standing before Darth Malak again, her blades at the ready.

            “Alek, _please_ ,” Eden pleaded, her voice hardly more than a whisper above the hum of her twin blades.

            _Alek?_

            Malak sighed, exasperated, changing his stance but making no move to strike.

            “We said we wouldn’t do this,” she said sharply, like a mother scolding a child in public.

            “We happened to do _a lot_ of things we said we wouldn’t do, remember?”

            Malak took a risk – he lowered his blade and raised a hand to her cheek, but Eden smacked it away. Malak only laughed, ferocity tainting his every chord.

             “ _Don’t.”_ Eden’s teeth were gritted, her knuckles white at the hilts of her blades.

Atton’s bones were fixed to the spot, chilled as if frozen.

            Malak laughed again. Mania overcame him. He moved toward her, forcefully, and without flinching Eden’s left blade sliced through the air, her motion followed by an acrid smell that Atton could only familiarize with a singed motherboard.

            An inhuman wail pierced the air as Malak stumbled back and Atton saw Eden’s handiwork. Malak’s eyes were wide as holodisks and just as icy blue, but below his nose was a black nothingness, his throat muscles exposed and struggling to speak with a tongue now absent. Atton let out a cry as he stumbled backward into a pillar, Malak mirroring his movements in the memory, slowly falling to the ground, his hands grasping at what was once his face. A sizzling mass lied simmering on the floor before to him.

            “I _said_ -” Eden kicked the mass at Malak. It landed between his legs, smiling eerily up at himself, “ - _don’t._ ”

            Eden’s face was streaked with tears, but her expression was stone otherwise. She switched off her left blade and threw it at Malak’s kicking feet as he flailed in horror, disbelief, and unmistakable pain.

            “I’ll send the council your regards.”

            With her free hand, Eden smoothed back her hair, and exited the room. She never looked back at Malak, and left him there in the darkness.

            Atton had the feeling they never saw one another again.

            As he watched Malak succumb to his wound, the vision dissolved, filling with static before resuming the present once more. Mira was slapping him now, and it only took a moment for Atton to come to before swatting her hands away.

            “Will you _stop_ that?” he heard himself say, the temple chamber coming into focus. Mira backed away from him, giving him some space, and Visas swam into view, coming closer to the two of them on the floor.

            “Did you see … whatever that was?” Atton asked, catching his breath. Mira stood and looked between the two of them, her expression somehow both astonished and confused.

            “You saw her?” Visas asked, and though her eyes were veiled Atton could tell she was looking at him, or that she could see him through the Force at least. Atton brought himself to his feet with a weighted effort, the dark energy having fed off of whatever stamina he had entered the temple with.

            He nodded, and muttered “If you mean Eden, then yes.”

            Visas shook her head in affirmation, and Mira appeared between them, eyes wide and clearly annoyed.

            “Would someone _please_ tell me what the _hell_ is going on?!”

            Visas ignored her and continued.

            “What do you think this means?” she asked.

            “How the hell should I know?” Atton retorted, still reeling from the vision and what it was that he saw. His palms kneaded his temples in some inane effort to both clear his mind yet recall the vision at the same time.

            “Dark energies feed off of memories, but memories of our _own._ Why did it show us a memory of the Exile’s? Why did we _both_ see it?”

            Atton may have been appointed the head of this expedition but he hadn’t an idea in the slightest… until…

            “Our bond – I mean, _her_ bond.”

            “Bond?” Mira echoed, her voice tinged with aggravation as Visas continued to ignore her input.

            “Her bond with Kreia,” Atton started, looking to Mira to make her feel included, “She has this bond through the Force, with Kreia, but the Jedi Masters mentioned that this was some, I don’t know, notorious ability of hers, like it’s not something new, that she-“

            “Are you saying she may have forged connections with  _us_ as well _?_ ”

            Atton nodded, though still unsure. Mira narrowed her eyes and clicked her tongue.

            “Oh, like _you two_ have some connection with her and _I_ don’t?”

            Visas finally turned her veiled head toward Mira, and said with even words “No, but you may have a different relationship with the Force. Of all of us, you are also the least trained in the ways of the For-."

" _Yeah, yeah,_ whatever," Mira interrupted with disdain, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She swatted at the air in annoyance as if she could physically stop the words from coming out of Visas' mouth. The miraluka quieted, sighing as she turned away.

            The bounty hunter rolled her eyes, but Atton understood. Feeling singled out by an unseen all-knowing energy seemed insulting, and it was something he had dealt with since the moment his sister was taken to the Academy all those years ago. Knowing that there was some secret plan at work pulling the strings made him feel alien in his own skin, and he knew how Mira must feel, if not only marginally.

            Atton shot her an apologetic glance, promising himself that he would explain it to her later, away from prying ears – namely those belonging to Visas, and Mical for that matter, both of whom liked to think that their singular idea of what the Force _was_ and _wasn’t_ was the Be All, End All of the universe.

            Mira shook her head, breaking her line of sight with the both of them, and began pacing the room.

            Visas turned to Atton again.

            “That man-“

            “Darth Malak.” Atton answered, almost too quickly.

            “Yes, Malak. He’s _dead_. What does he have to do with this? Why was this memory shown to us now? And here of all places?”

            Atton had some idea as to why it was shown to _him_ perhaps – meant as a warning about what happens to people who get close enough to Eden to disappoint her, maybe – but he knew it meant more than that.

            “I have a bad feeling that’s not the last this place has to show us,” Atton muttered, finally getting a hold on the present. The room felt solid now, and Mira’s discontent was palpable beside him.

            Visas considered his words, her head bowed in what Atton presumed was thought, as Mira shot him an unsure glance, one brow raised as her arms folded across her chest.

            “You’ve seen this stuff before?” Mira asked, her voice low, knowing.

            Atton only nodded.

            “A story for another time, perhaps,” Visas spoke for him.

            “Yeah, what she said,” Atton agreed, shooting Mira a dark glance before readying himself. For a moment, he took in what he could of the room, of the temple, of everything. Using what the Exile had shown him, he used the Force to lay out a map of sorts to see what energies surrounded him and where. He was still recovering, but he could feel Mira’s annoyance in full at his side, and he glimpsed briefly into the questions that swam about Visas’ mind. Closing his eyes, he could see Bao and Mandalore with a few Mandalorians that must have joined them not too far off, nearing pockets of energy not unlike the one they were in right now.

            He would tell Mira everything later. Atton did not owe the bounty hunter anything, but he felt it would make things right, to whatever end. And not only with her, either. Visas did not need to ask questions, and for all Atton knew she may already be aware of his past with the Sith. But Mira should know, as should the rest of the crew. He owed the Exile that much, now.

            Something told him that whatever took hold of Malak all those years ago had twisted him, mangled his perceptions, and the very fabric of the universe around him. Atton knew what the Dark Side could do. It created shadows where there were none, and darkness fell everywhere you looked. Things weren’t much different without that influence, but those corners of the universe seemed much less inviting, now. His skin grew cold at the thought, and Atton knew he could not remain in this room any longer.

            “Let’s keep moving.”

            Visas turned to him and nodded, oddly sure of his direction, unlike Mira who rolled her eyes again but held one hand steadily over the hilt of the new saber at her waist while the other held her blaster aloft, trigger-ready.

            Atton breathed deeply, and exhaled, wondering what other horrors this temple might show them, and somehow he knew that this was not the end of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Another Atton snippet from my series 'The Dark Wars', which is still in progress, but of course I cannot keep all of these Atton scenes in my own damn head for too long... But I am writing the rest, I promise!


End file.
